09-16-2018, 04:00 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-18-2018, 03:00 PM by Leilan.
Edit Reason: typos
)
Leilan
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside
could have so many ragged holes inside
could have so many ragged holes inside
She’d already turned away from him, when the first words came. The gold-clad stallion had no composure left when she turned around, shuffling a front hoof, not looking at her directly when he stuttered out the other words, an apology, not the greatest one in the world, but still a relief that she has stayed to hear him out. He almost wants to thank her for it, but then when his eyes - still the deep dark blue of, well, feeling blue - meet her face, she is prying, perhaps not as cold as before but definitely not something he really dares to look at for long; flashing back to his hoofs a moment.
Thought what would go away?
He stirs visibly at her question. Attempts to raise his gaze again, forcing onto himself the pain of looking at her - he deserves that moment of suffering, she deserves that satisfaction of making it so - she didn’t send him away, instead latching on the one thing that slipped into his sad excuse of an apology and poking where it hurt.
His eyes switch colours rapidly while he looks at her, a shocked whitish yellow, then an ashamed pinkish orange (sunset perhaps) as he flushes, to settle back in a mixture of the deep blue with a tinge of red, ending in some kind of purple as if the colour doesn’t want to settle between shame and sadness. ”Oh, Breckin.” he can only sigh for a moment. Voice loaded thick with the mixed emotions, but now that he’s started with a confession and an apology, why not just throw it all out. If she really needs to be told, then so be it. She’s so blind to another’s emotions at times, even when there’s switching eye colours betraying him, even with her new ability to read said emotions which she had chosen not to use. He’d think it funny with every other situation if it hadn’t involved himself and his lack of a way to cope with it at the time.
One might think after all this she might have an inkling. Maybe she just wants to hear him say it. He wonders if it will be enough of an explanation? He doesn’t know if she or maybe, his mother, has ever visited Hyaline and seen the gold-blazed girl, knowing like he knew immediately, she is his. There will be questions when she finds out. She will be angry, furious probably, she has every right to - but then he blinks and somehow realignes his thoughts, his eyes settling on his normal basic ice blue as he hardens himself. Everything that she can throw at him, he’ll take it. He can take a bite. He can take a kick. And he can take the heat and passion of her anger, because it will be so much better than the coldness in her eyes.
His eyes lock unto hers again, when he subconsciously has slipped from her gaze - the deep pools of brown that he’ll gladly drown in, that so often find him in his sleep, pleasant dreams when he was in Loess, haunting ones after she’d implied not even wanting to be his friend, terrible nightmares of accusations and whys after that day in the forest, and back to haunting and asking ‘why’ still, when he was back in Ischia. He couldn’t take that. She has to know and perhaps then he can move on.
”I love you, Breckin.” There, out. Then he continues in a quick pace, not giving her room to get a word in because he can’t really deal with another immediate rejection. ”I think I always have and by the looks of it now, I guess I will forever because nothing I tried could shake it. Look, I know it’s not something you want to hear, I know I messed everything up and you probably don’t even want me near you, so, just - just say the word. I’ll do anything, but please, please, if you want me to go away, just tell me that it makes you happier. It’s bad enough if only one of us cannot to be happy, the least I can do is make life easier for you. I just want you to be happy.” He’s repetitive somewhere in the rambling, he knows, but if it emphasizes what he feels then so be it. Blue eyes find hers dark ones, broken like the way he was when he numbly, automatically, walked and drifted back to Ischia after his day on the mountain.
All he’d done since meeting her was for her, but they were things she could not know. The time in Loess spent away from family and from her, wondering if she thought about him at all, and if she did if she thought he had left her like he’d never contacted any other flirt again, triggering the need to escape and go see her -her and his family, but he would have been content to wait the year out if it had just been his family- or the realization that had hit him when she touched him then, a soft and easy touch that made him want more, but not daring to make any other move than a returned tease because she looked so fragile and uncertain. The shock and again not daring to intervene any more than asking once not to go, when she suddenly had turned to leave (as if she had realized he was carrying a contagious deadly disease and she did not want to tell him he’d die horribly the next day). The longing to soothe her for whatever had hurt her but not daring to intervene, the hurt when she never showed up to see him or explain what happened, his fake attempt to distract himself by going after others and taking from Briseis what he would never get from her - a touch, a caress, fake excuses for love. The excruciating pain when she eventually did turn up but pretended all was well. The anger, and words spoken in hurt that she’d triggered. Regret and more distractions when certainly this time she would never want to see him again, girls he’d courted because they attempted to ease his pain, but not even that had worked this time. Not long enough. He could not move on. The anger tantrum he’d thrown in the meadow, at the blue stallion, at his mother. The trek to the mountain, taking it out on a fairy that (of course) would not budge and save him, so he’d taken the step off the ledge deliberately. The numbness when all he’d tried had failed, causing him to be unaware of the predator living inside the mermaid, ending up like one himself. All things stupid, all things traced back to her and she wasn’t even aware.
But perhaps she would be now, because if she wanted an explanation or more answers then she would get them. She could ask anything and he’d readily answer, or do what she asked - if it would just make her happier. In the end, that was all he needed from her.
Thought what would go away?
He stirs visibly at her question. Attempts to raise his gaze again, forcing onto himself the pain of looking at her - he deserves that moment of suffering, she deserves that satisfaction of making it so - she didn’t send him away, instead latching on the one thing that slipped into his sad excuse of an apology and poking where it hurt.
His eyes switch colours rapidly while he looks at her, a shocked whitish yellow, then an ashamed pinkish orange (sunset perhaps) as he flushes, to settle back in a mixture of the deep blue with a tinge of red, ending in some kind of purple as if the colour doesn’t want to settle between shame and sadness. ”Oh, Breckin.” he can only sigh for a moment. Voice loaded thick with the mixed emotions, but now that he’s started with a confession and an apology, why not just throw it all out. If she really needs to be told, then so be it. She’s so blind to another’s emotions at times, even when there’s switching eye colours betraying him, even with her new ability to read said emotions which she had chosen not to use. He’d think it funny with every other situation if it hadn’t involved himself and his lack of a way to cope with it at the time.
One might think after all this she might have an inkling. Maybe she just wants to hear him say it. He wonders if it will be enough of an explanation? He doesn’t know if she or maybe, his mother, has ever visited Hyaline and seen the gold-blazed girl, knowing like he knew immediately, she is his. There will be questions when she finds out. She will be angry, furious probably, she has every right to - but then he blinks and somehow realignes his thoughts, his eyes settling on his normal basic ice blue as he hardens himself. Everything that she can throw at him, he’ll take it. He can take a bite. He can take a kick. And he can take the heat and passion of her anger, because it will be so much better than the coldness in her eyes.
His eyes lock unto hers again, when he subconsciously has slipped from her gaze - the deep pools of brown that he’ll gladly drown in, that so often find him in his sleep, pleasant dreams when he was in Loess, haunting ones after she’d implied not even wanting to be his friend, terrible nightmares of accusations and whys after that day in the forest, and back to haunting and asking ‘why’ still, when he was back in Ischia. He couldn’t take that. She has to know and perhaps then he can move on.
”I love you, Breckin.” There, out. Then he continues in a quick pace, not giving her room to get a word in because he can’t really deal with another immediate rejection. ”I think I always have and by the looks of it now, I guess I will forever because nothing I tried could shake it. Look, I know it’s not something you want to hear, I know I messed everything up and you probably don’t even want me near you, so, just - just say the word. I’ll do anything, but please, please, if you want me to go away, just tell me that it makes you happier. It’s bad enough if only one of us cannot to be happy, the least I can do is make life easier for you. I just want you to be happy.” He’s repetitive somewhere in the rambling, he knows, but if it emphasizes what he feels then so be it. Blue eyes find hers dark ones, broken like the way he was when he numbly, automatically, walked and drifted back to Ischia after his day on the mountain.
All he’d done since meeting her was for her, but they were things she could not know. The time in Loess spent away from family and from her, wondering if she thought about him at all, and if she did if she thought he had left her like he’d never contacted any other flirt again, triggering the need to escape and go see her -her and his family, but he would have been content to wait the year out if it had just been his family- or the realization that had hit him when she touched him then, a soft and easy touch that made him want more, but not daring to make any other move than a returned tease because she looked so fragile and uncertain. The shock and again not daring to intervene any more than asking once not to go, when she suddenly had turned to leave (as if she had realized he was carrying a contagious deadly disease and she did not want to tell him he’d die horribly the next day). The longing to soothe her for whatever had hurt her but not daring to intervene, the hurt when she never showed up to see him or explain what happened, his fake attempt to distract himself by going after others and taking from Briseis what he would never get from her - a touch, a caress, fake excuses for love. The excruciating pain when she eventually did turn up but pretended all was well. The anger, and words spoken in hurt that she’d triggered. Regret and more distractions when certainly this time she would never want to see him again, girls he’d courted because they attempted to ease his pain, but not even that had worked this time. Not long enough. He could not move on. The anger tantrum he’d thrown in the meadow, at the blue stallion, at his mother. The trek to the mountain, taking it out on a fairy that (of course) would not budge and save him, so he’d taken the step off the ledge deliberately. The numbness when all he’d tried had failed, causing him to be unaware of the predator living inside the mermaid, ending up like one himself. All things stupid, all things traced back to her and she wasn’t even aware.
But perhaps she would be now, because if she wanted an explanation or more answers then she would get them. She could ask anything and he’d readily answer, or do what she asked - if it would just make her happier. In the end, that was all he needed from her.
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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